


Safe

by Houseofhaleth



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Doriath, F/M, First Age, Sindar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:52:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofhaleth/pseuds/Houseofhaleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Girdle of Melian is a huge thing to sustain, particularly against attacks from Morgoth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

There was a time when the light spilled from her. When she was so full of life and strength that it trembled in her shining eyes, and when she laid all her attention on a person, it made them breathless. Or at least, it made _him_ breathless. She was more alive than anything else.

  This was before the girdle. When it first went up, he watched the strength drain from her and into it. The way she seemed to shrink, and dim – he had never been so scared. Taking her in his arms he begged her to drop it, to forget it, they’d survive somehow – they could make physical walls, or, or-

  She touched his face with a hand that had gone cool, where it was usually warm and tingling.

  ‘No,’ she told him. ‘I will not drop it while you live.’

  Nothing would sway her on this.

  Not long later, the girdle was tested. Scouts said they’d seen _things_ in the distance, but the first they knew of it was the Queen going pale as the dead, and sinking to her knees. She recovered, but she was shaken, and when he tried to comfort her she turned and held onto him tightly, clamping her arms around his neck.

  ‘I won’t let him take you,’ she snarled. ‘I won’t let him _near_ you.’

  Some days in court she said next to nothing. She had always left the matter of ruling to him, but when he looked to her on those days, instead of looking back she was staring into the middle distance, eyes unfocused. When he took her hand and squeezed it, there was a delay before she squeezed back.

  Those days he knew the girdle was being tested again, and her power was being spent elsewhere.

  Sometimes he would catch her looking at Lúthien with a deep sadness, and he wasn’t certain why – was it because she had never known anything but Doriath, and most of that behind the girdle? Was it because they would probably not have another child now – particularly while her strength was focused elsewhere?

  She would wake at night, from time to time, and when he reached for her in the dark she was cold and clammy, her chest heaving.

  ‘Nightmare?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He dreaded asking if it was simply a dream, or a reflection of what was happening at Doriath’s borders. The first time she refused to tell him, but buried her face in his hair. The second time she swore it was nothing – although he didn’t believe her until she finally fell asleep, cradling his head against her chest.

  The third time she watched him light the lamp and take a breath to ask –

  ‘I can hold it,’ she said. ‘I can hold him off. You don’t need to be afraid.’ Her hand closed around his. ‘You have nothing to be afraid of.’

  ‘I’m not afraid for me,’ he said. ‘I never have been. Melian, it’s always been you I’ve been afraid for.’

  She shook her head, laughing humourlessly, but finally met his eyes, and stopped.

  Taking his hand in both of hers, she kissed it gently. ‘We’ll keep each other safe,’ she said, lips brushing against his knuckles.

  If anything found its way through the girdle, he swore silently he would see it dead before it touched his family.


End file.
